My Only Ritual Is To Just Sit

I Think People Tend To See The Bigger Point, Which Is Maybe Not Fitting In And Feeling Like You Didn't Have The Childhood That You Expected You Would Have, Or That You Felt Lonely Or Struggled With Drugs And Alcohol Or Just That You Were Able To Achieve Your Dreams.

This Is What Happens When You Go Against The Grain Of Truth. You Get Splinters Later On.

And Of Course, The Answer Came To Me In The Same Way Jesus Comes To Those Who Drink In Trailers: As An Epiphany.

I Think Writers Tend To Be Experience Junkies, And I Think They Also Tend To Want To Be On The Outside Looking In.

What I Really Want Is To Sit Next To Someone Under An L.l. Bean Blanket On The Beach In The Fall And Drink Coffee From The Same Mug. I Don't Want Some Rusty '73 Ford Pinto With A Factory-defective Gas Tank That Causes It To Explode When It's Rear-ended In The Parking Lot Of The Supermarket. So Why Do I Keep Looking For Pintos?